^f 



59? 






:> -^'vbfe 



-5» "I* > 












t!6> ■ :» - 



^■^ 



;t*>>^ 



^3 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 






5^ 

:> > 






I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. 









^ 3 " 

3 5 
JO 

- > > : 






-^ y '5^^^ 


:>:> 


"3^ "^ 5~^fc 


1 3> 


J^ ^5*3 


* :£> 


^^ y !> 1 


» :>:> 


^ >=•:: 


» j^ 


J» ^or: 


► » 


^ ^^-zj 


» 55 


» :>>:>ji3i 


» • :>^ 


► oo --» 


► ■ y> 


► ^^^3 


* ->y 


* ^>Z3 


> rt ■ 


> ^ ^^zia 


► >) 


^ > ^i 


» ^> ^ 


:5Z> Z> 


» )^ " 


:> o Tl» 


i , :-==: 




► >,-^ 


■^ 


3 L> :z> 


>-=5 



3 z> 



5 S ^^ 









z> o z:> 



3.^ 



jf ->\:> 



^> V 












3 '3 


















3m. 












3> '> 3 -Z 



) ) 3 » sa. 

/. ) ». ■:«&. ■, 

;> :> >3 :»> _. 

) o>- 3*' :; 
^o o> :)>_^ 

^ ;> ^3 .:> • ■_ 
:>o >3 :j- ^ 

3'3 ^3-' ? 

^ :> 3:>^ y; 

3 3 3>i ' 

oo >-» .^. . 

3 3 .:S» >.' '■ 

3 O' >» ^ 

3 D »> > .1 

3 3 . >33 > 

3 >3>j-r 

• :> x» . ' 

^3 X» 

3-)3- 33:) /"^ 

> 'B ^,.:-:"^' 

>)53' :>33:i> 

'3- -x> ::si» 



5i 3" 






.^33) ,^«> ;3 r 

3> ):> 3> -») i> -Z> 

.^. --^^ .3> M3 a3 ~:> 

-> >-> ^S> >3 t>3 i: 



3 3;: 

» 3 3"^ 

:> 3 3» 

3 ,:> ;z» 

2^T 






«:= 

:>3 . 

-> 33 '1. 
■' ■ 3,3' ■ 

3 3 ^ 



" ~ ^'^ 






5^ ^^ 



37> 

. ^ 
>:':* ^33 

' 33 
33 

:>3 
33 
33 

J> ..^ 3D 

>3 
33 _ 
>:> 



3 3 :> 

33 ? 

j> 3 , : 

3 3 , ;r 






'3 •>z>^\z>. r 



:> n> > ^ 



-. ^>^ 

^ ^.^ 



^ Q 3 :> 



^ t>3.»^ 



D3 






DISCOURSES '^^ 



vv- 



IN MEMORY OF 



ROBERT WATERSTON. 



BY THE 



REV. Ef: S^'GANNETT, D.D., 

At the Arlington-street Church, Boston, Sept. 5, 1869 ; 



AND BY THE 



REV. JOHN H. HEYWOOD, 

/ 

At Louisville, Ky., Sept. 12, 1869. 



WITH ADDITIONAL NOTICES. 



Pvtntcti for iPribate Circulation. 



BOSTON. 

1869. 




.^ 



<n /- O 



.^ 



^'^>'" 

^ 



G- 



CAMBRIDGE : 
PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON. 



DEATH, IN ITS PUEPOSE AND EFFECT. 



By rev. E. S. GANNETT, D.D. 



DEATH, IN ITS PURPOSE AND EFFECT. 



2 Cor. v. 4: " Tliat mortality miyht be swaUomed up of' life." 

rpHERE are three explanations of death, which may be 
-■- called, respectively, the penal, the scientific, and the 
Christian. The first represents death as a penalty incurred by 
sin ; the second ascribes it to natural laws ; the thii'd makes it 
the necessary passage to an endless life. The first was the 
Jewish, or, more strictly, the Rabbinical view, according to 
which man brought on himself the doom of mortality by 
transgression ; — Adam, in the first instance, by his voluntary 
disobedience ; his posterity, by following his example and 
yielding to the evil propensity which they inherited from him. 
Paul seems to have embraced this belief at the feet of Gama- 
liel, and to have interwoven it with the Christian faith. His 
argument in the Epistle to the Romans, in which he shows 
that more is gained through Christ than is lost by descent from 
Adam, is constructed upon this theory respecting the entrance 
of death into the world. The countenance it receives from 
him does not diminish his authority as an expounder of the 
gospel, but, rather, lifts into higher importance the inspiration 
that enabled him to describe in such forcible and fervid 
language the advantage which the believer obtains in the 
final conflict. We find little trace of this solution of the 
universal experience in the discourses of our Lord. He did 



not regard physical deatli as a punishment. In consequence, 
partly, of the influence which the Epistles of Paul have had 
in forming the religious opinions of Christendom, — an influ- 
ence greater than has been allowed to the Evangelists Avho 
recorded Christ's own words, — the belief that death is an inflic- 
tion of penalty has prevailed in the Church for many ages. 
It came over to New England with the Fathers, and is still 
held by multitudes among their descendants. 

The scientific explanation sees in the extinction of bodily life 
only a fulfilment of laws which must take effect with man, as 
with the inferior animals. He is subject to disease and decay, 
which may be modified by care or medical skill, but cannot be 
averted. Death belongs to the economy of nature, which is 
sovereign in all its departments of action. Science does not 
look behind the law for its purpose, nor beyond to its ultimate 
result, but is content with its obvious character and immediate 
effect, and therefore gives a solution which may be accepted by 
those who know as little of science as of religion. They who 
are not instructed in any religious belief regard death as they 
regard hunger or fatigue, darkness or storm, as belonging to 
the original constitution of things, to be endured because it 
vmst be endured. Their ignorance, or their curiosity, is satis- 
fied with the affirmation, — it must be. 

The Christian faith recognizes law, but always as a means 
to some beneficent end. It also perceives a connection be- 
tween the sinfulness and the mortality of the human race. 
But its answer to the question, Why does man die ? is drawn 
from a range of thought with which science is not familiar, and 
through Avhich the popular theology too often wandeis blind- 
fold. Man dies, that he may live for ever. This is the simple, 
yet sublime truth. " Mortality is swallowed up of life." Paul 
caught sight of the fact and rejoiced in it ; though he may not 
have seen that it accounts for death, as well as shows us what 



death is. Man was made mortal, that ho might hecome im- 
inortaL He couhi not live always on earth, for the earth 
would not contain the generations if they did not give place to 
one another. He could not live for ever in the body, for the 
body is composed of perishable elements. He must go away 
from the body and the earth ; and this is death, — leaving the 
earth and putting off the body. Is it any thing more ? The 
senses discover nothing more ; the investigations of science 
reveal nothing more. Jesus used the word which covered the 
whole truth, when he said, " It is expedient for you that I go 
away ; for if I go uot away, the Comforter will not come to 
you." Going away, — that is death. But observe what an as- 
surance of life is conveyed by such a description. To go is to 
move, and motion supposes continuance of being. " / go 
away," — the same being moves on to another life. Death is 
an exchange of lives. Christianity not only gives this assur- 
ance, but also announces that the other life is endless. We 
live here but a few years ; we cannot stay here long. But 
hereafter, — does any one know a limit involved in that 
term ? Has it a limit ? " Here " belongs to time ; " hereafter " 
stretches beyond the boundaries of time, — who shall say how 
far ? Call up your doubts, summon your reasonings, propound 
your difficulties, unbeliever ! Will they indicate a point at 
which the hereafter must stop ? Use the word, and, by the 
very indefiniteness which is the heart of its meaning, you pro- 
claim a duration to which you can assign no boundary. 
Mortality is " swallowed up of life." 

Yet more is taught in this grand expression. Mortality is 
meant to be a preparation for life. Man begins existence here 
that he may pursue his existence in some other state of being. 
He is put here to die ; that is, as we have seen, to live again. 
But a wise and good Creator could not have intended that suc- 
cession should be the only tie between the two states of being. 



8 

One must hold au influence over the other : the earlier over the 
later, directly ; the later over the earlier, through the expecta- 
tion by means of which the future associates itself with the 
present. Man as the heir of immortahty sees in his earthly life 
a period of education in which he must he diligent, that he 
may be ready for removal to another sphere of existence. To 
one who believes in a future life, reason suggests the propriety 
of preparation. The gospel of Christ speaks with emphasis. 
"We were placed on earth to make this preparation. We die, 
that we may live hereafter ; but Ave begin life here, that we may 
learn how to live hereafter. We are ready to die, Avhen we are 
ready to live. The more sincere our consciousness of life now, 
the more intense will be our consciousness in the other world. 
They who are " dead in trespasses and sins" here will realize 
a deeper death when the realities of a disembodied experience 
overwhelm them ; while they who are trained to the largest 
possible use of existence here will have fitted themselves to 
use still larger opportunities when the body is laid aside, and 
" mortality is swallowed up of life." 

"Swallowed up," — how thoroughly Pauline is that word ! 
There is no more mortality : life has absorbed it. The apostle 
loved to use strong words that had great meanings in them ; 
and so he says that mortality is " swallowed up," lost, gone. 
Such was his interpretation of the gospel that had brought an 
immortal life to light; such was his understanding of that 
wonderful declaration of Jesus, " Whosoever liveth and believ- 
eth in me shall never die." If death be only an entrance into 
fulness of life, the associations which men have had Avith it 
are so false, that we may drop the term out of our ordinary 
speech. The child, and by virtue of his filial relation, the heir 
of God does not die : he only lives. The death-bed to him is 
the portal of immortality. Not Bethel, where the patriarch 
slept, was so truly " the gate of heaven ; " not Olivet, whence 



9 

the Saviour ascended, was more truly the threshold of the 
skies. 

Can we define the fulness of life into which the Christian 
will enter hereafter ? Can we describe heaven ? Many per- 
sons claim the ability, and many more are eager to hear what 
they say. So long as they confine themselves to the few great 
truths involved in the idea of immortality for a being consti- 
tuted and conditioned as man is, they may cany along with 
them our convictions or our sympathies : but when they 
descend to circumstantial narrative, on a subject which more 
than any other needs the light of a distinct revelation, are 
they not in danger of adducing the unsatisfactory testimonies 
of a fond heart or a sensuous imagination ? On no other subject 
should we be more cautious than in speaking of those who have 
gone from us to the unseen world ; since the only information 
on which we can rely must be either an undeniable inference 
from our present consciousness or positive instruction from 
Heaven. Reason soon touches the limit of its discoveries, and 
the divine voice of Christianity maintains a silence too remark- 
able to be disregarded by an humble inquirer. Three facts, 
however, stand forth in such prominence, that we are justified 
in taking them as elements in our conception of the heavenly 
state. 

In the first place, it is a disembodied existence upon which 
man enters through the gateway of death ; or rather, an 
existence in which he will no longer be compelled to wear the 
garment of flesh which he now carries about. Precisely what 
the apostle meant by " a spiritual body " we cannot know till 
we have disrobed ourselves of the flesh. That the spirit may 
always need some organism exterior to itself, yet closely allied, 
by which it may hold communication with the beings and 
objects around it, is by no means improbable. But it will not 
be the corporeal vestment with which we are now enwrapped. 



10 

That we commit to the grave, and dissolution soon claims its 
own. It is not difficult to foi-esee some of the changes in our 
experience, which must follow on a release from the mortal 
body. Let me point out two, certainly not the least important. 
The body, through its wants and infirmities, is a continual 
hindrance to the exercises in which the spiritual nature de- 
lights. Even in health it requires much attention ; it must 
be provided with food, and must have seasons of rest ; one- 
third of our time is consumed in obeying its demands. Few 
of us, however, enjoy constant health. Acute illness or chronic 
disease, pain or lassitude, or some other form of discomfort, 
interrupts the action of the mind, changes the course of the 
thoughts, disturbs the moral sensibility, depresses the energy 
of devotion, and either drags the good man down from the 
height of excellence which he had reached, or imposes on 
him a severe effort to maintain that position. Can you not 
imagine the joy a soul must feel in exemption from sympathy 
with a feeble or suffering body ? If convalescence on earth be 
delightful, what must freedom from all " the ills that flesh is 
heir to " be in heaven I Or if, on the other hand, through 
the force of a vigorous constitution, or the prudence we ob- 
serve in the management of our lives, they ai-e prolonged 
till the pressure of many years rests upon the frame, how 
manifest becomes the advantage that must accrue from ex- 
changing this weight of years for perpetual youth ! There 
is one sight even more touching than the spectacle of a vener- 
able and tranquil old age : it is the countenance on which death 
has gently laid its hand, to restore an expression of strength 
in repose where the progress of time had traced lines of 
weakness, if not of suffering. It is the law of advanced life, 
seldom relaxed, that it must part with freedom of motion and 
force of thought ; how often is it attended with both physical 
and mental decrepitude. Blessed release ! when the mind casts 



11 



off its dependence ou an organ that only impedes its exercises. 
" A disembodied existence," — many are tlie hints that start 
out of the obscurity of tliat phrase, to inspire gratitude and 
hope. 

For a mind no longer hampered by bodily necessities, and 
entering on its future career with the acquisitions of its earthly 
experience, must not the progress which it will make constitute 
a second fact in the blessedness of heaven ? Man was made 
to collect, arrange, and retain various knowledge. For a time, 
the body aids irs in this work ; afterwards, it embarrasses our 
efforts. The senses grow dull, and the faculties sluggish ; 
while new fields of observation are but fresh occasions of dis- 
appointment. Set free from a companionship that has become 
burthensome, with what eagerness and what success will the 
immortal intelligence investigate the secrets of the universe ! 
The discoveries of modern science foreshadow what may then 
be learned. "We stand amazed, and even appalled, before the 
revelations that are daily rectifying conclusions hastily formed, 
or are opening paths of inquiry unknown to past generations. 
Yet these discoveries are mere fragments of the infinite truth. 
Newton and Humboldt but began to decipher the hieroglyphics 
of nature. What a study remains to be prosecuted hereafter ! 
If by " nature " we mean all that the Divine will has pro- 
duced, the spiritual as well as material creation on which 
God has impressed his own eternal thought, what a boundless 
opportunity of gratification lies before the inquisitive facul- 
ties of the soul ! Our mental, and even our moral, philo- 
sophy is but a groping in darkness after that which no 
one has yet firmly seized. With invigorated powers and 
quickened affections, the soul will hereafter hold under exam- 
ination the problems which now elude its grasp ; and, strength- 
ened by exercise, must grow with the growth of its own knowl- 
edge. " Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to 



12 

face ; now I know in part," — and in small part only, — " but 
then I shall know even as also I am known." What a prom- 
ise is this, to enkindle hope and to inform ns concerning the 
future state ! Inexhaustible knowledge for the unwearied 
mind, — this is one definition of heaven. 

The height and end of knowledge is God. The spiritual 
nature of man craves spiritual acquisition. Increase of 
spiritual force and enjoyment is the third fact which the 
light of Christianity discloses, as it rests upon the future 
state. The religious exercises which were here the believer's 
choice will there be pursued with a satisfaction but faintly 
or briefly felt amidst the circumstances of our earthly life. 
To enter into close communion with the Father of spirits, 
beholding his glory and enjoying his favor ; to dwell with 
Christ in the " mansions " which he has gone before to pre- 
pare, — I do not ask for a more exact description, which would 
only narrow my conception of that blissful home. To associate 
on terms of intimate friendship with holy and happy beings, 
with prophets, apostles, saints, angels ; to be conscious of pure 
desires, and serene tempers, and g-enerous purposes, and lofty 
aspirations ; to realize an immortality of relative perfection in 
the approach to an absolute perfection that will beckon us 
onward for ever, — this is heaven. Attempt not with material 
images to represent such felicity : they afford but a poor sym- 
bolism, if it be not rather a painful caricature. Offer me not 
ideas that have the aspect and the flavor of this world, rather 
than of a better. They repel, instead of instructing me. Yet 
tell me not, in rebuke of the faith I cherish, that the future life 
is quite hidden from my view. Concealed behind a veil impen- 
etrable by mortal sense it may be, still foreknown by such 
intimations of its character as a Christian experience contains. 
We are not ignorant concerning those who have left us, as if 
we had no spiritual discernment, or as if we had not seen 



II 



their manner of life here. Their faith, and love, and strength, 
and peace, and joy were the seeds whicli have ripened into 
celestial fruit. So has " mortality been swallowed up of life." 

And now, from such a study as we are able to make of the 
invisible world, — invisible only to those who lack spiritual 
sight, — we may learn the nature of preparation for that world. 
It consists in a life that may expand into the fulness of exer- 
cise and enjoyment hereafter. Again, we recall the words of 
Jesus, " He that livetli and believeth in me shall never die ; " 
or, to borrow the concurrent words of the apostle, he that 
" liveth by the faith of the Son of God" shall feel no loss nor 
decrease of being. They whose faith penetrates and sustains 
their life are ready to die. Having partaken of heaven on this 
side of the grave, they will find a heaven, and the same heaven, 
on the other side. Men of sincere and practical goodness, who 
have held habitual communion with the Author of their being 
and grown into sympathy with the Redeemer of their souls, 
men of an humble piety and a steadfast uprightness and a ten- 
der philanthropy, who have shed around them a wholesome 
influence, and who leave a sweet perfume of righteousness 
in the places where they dwelt, in whom belief has become 
character, and character become religion, — they are the heirs 
of the future blessedness. Having " finished their course " and 
" fought a good fight," they obtain the " victory in which death 
is swallowed up," the victory that is life and immortality. 

To have the examples of such men before our eyes is one of 
the privileges for which we can never be too heartily thankful ; 
for they are, to those who will observe them, interpreters of the 
present, and prophets of the future ; and who that hath eyes 
to see can help observing them, as they pass before us in their 
meek elevation, their spotless integrity, their holy faith, their 
peaceful enjoyment, sons of God, followers of Christ, and " par- 
takers of the glory that shall be revealed " ? We talk much. 



14 

think and write much, about the wealth of a country : good 
men and women are the true wealth of a land. We found 
our institutions of learning, and encoui'age education for the 
people : the highest learning, yet the education which is open 
to all, is foimd where the gospel of Christ has taught and 
moulded the believer, in whatever outward condition. We 
press the question, Who shall be saved ? and differ about the 
answer ; when it stands before us in the character of every true 
Christian. We ask, How shall " mortality be swallowed up of 
life " ? as some of old asked, " How shall the dead be raised ? " 
as if no reply could be given ; while for the best reply we could 
have, we need only watch the conversion of mortality into life 
here by those whose hearts are set on things unseen and 
eternal. 

The venerated friend who has just gone from us was one of 
these expounders of Holy Writ. For more than fifty years a 
member of this society, and, with one exception, at the time 
of his death the oldest member of this church, he is entitled 
to the grateful remembrance of his fellow-worshippers. He 
has left a memorial of himself, which we shall carefully pre- 
serve, in the impression he made on our judgments and hearts. 
Never ambitious of notoriety or distinction, he was widely 
known, and as widely esteemed. Exposed to the vicissitudes 
which attend mercantile life, and tried by alternations of pros- 
perity and adversity, he kept a name as free from suspicion as 
from stain, and taught this community to appreciate honesty 
as a just claim to honor. In his private relations faithful and 
generous, he won the confidence of the rich and the gratitude 
of the poor. In social intercourse frank, cordial, sincere, he 
bound his friends to him by warm admiration and respectful 
love. An old man, almost all of whose contemporaries had 
disappeared, he had a freshness of heart which drew the young 



15 

around him. With a mind that could not be idle, when years 
ago he relinquished the cares of business, his books and his 
pen gave him employment which he loved. From his native 
land he brought the elements of a character that was ripened 
amidst the influences of our more versatile civilization ; — among 
these elements, not the least conspicuous, a tenacity of purpose 
which laid a firm grasp alike on opinions and on circumstances. 
An American through the breadth of his sympathies and the 
clearness of his political convictions, he never lost his attach- 
ment to Scotland, or his delight in the recollections cf his 
youth. His faith was the strength of his character and the 
joy of his soul. If any one might be described by the single 
word "religious," he merited such a description ; for he was a 
thoi'oughly religious man. Religion was his daily bread ; it 
gave him moral force and spiritual health. He was a believer ; 
not in a superficial or sectarian sense, but in the grand import 
of that word, when it means one who, with his whole heart, 
believes in God and in Christ his Son, and in the Divine will 
as at once law and grace. His distinctively religious experi- 
ence began at an early age, and to the last the circumstances 
which marked its commencement were as vivid in his memory 
as if they had occurred but yesterday. The doctrines which 
he then embraced he retained through life. He was a Uni- 
tarian in his affirmation of the sole deity of the Father, but he 
clung to the divine mission and superhuman nature of Christ 
with the strongest assurance. The Bible was very dear to 
him, and familiar alike to his heart and to his lips. The 
church was a place which he loved, and which, till bodily infir- 
mities kept him at home, he never ceased to frequent. In his 
latter years he felt little interest in dogmatic discussion ; and 
while his attachment to his own belief underwent no change, 
his desire to see all Christians united upon essential points 
led him to entertain the hope that this union had been already 



16 

secured. In my visits to him, long before his last illness, he 
would turn the conversation very soon on his favorite theme, 
and again and again repeat, to ears which should perhaps 
have been less incredulous, "■ Religion is the same in all." With 
him it was love to God and love to man, according to the defi- 
nition and the example of Christ ; and he fondly believed, 
— perhaps he was right, — that, however disguised in appear- 
ance, it was in substance the same everywhere. 

I spoke of his last illness ; but only by a most liberal con- 
struction could this term be used in adverting to the close of 
his life. No disease hurried him to the grave ; no suffering 
exhausted the vital forces. He lived through the full measure 
of his days, and died because the last sand had run out. For 
months before he went to his chamber he had felt the slow 
progress of infirmity assailing the physical system, without im- 
pairing the mental action. It caused no disturbance, neither 
regret nor anxiety. " On the border," he would say, "just on 
the border," as calmly as he would have spoken of arrange- 
ments for a journey. Indeed, preparation he had none to 
make. It had been made through seventy-five years of active 
or quiet discipline. He was neither impatient nor reluctant. 
He continually celebrated the Divine goodness ; and God, who 
had been so good to him from his childhood through all the 
scenes of worldly or domestic experience, comforting him in 
his bereavements, as well as filling his heart with gladness in 
brighter days, was good to him, and to us, in the final event. 
A death-bed so painless and tranquil for weeks I never before 
saw. Less disposed to pursue conversation as it became an 
effort, and then more and more silent, yet with a sweet smile 
and a cordial word of greeting for tliose who entered the room, 
he lost a little strength each day, till there was no more to lose, 
and he ceased to breathe. This was the manner of his death ; 
and if we could have seen what followed the last feeble breath, 



17 



who nicay doubt that we should have seen " mortality swallowed 
up of life " ? The love of God was the theme on which he 
delighted to muse and to converse here ; the love of God was 
the inheritance that awaited him above. 

A good man and a ripe Christian has passed into heaven. 
Our earth no longer holds his presence, but his influence re- 
mains with us. We shall no more behold his venerable figure, 
scarcely bent with age, in this house, nor again join the circle 
of friends who have carried their birthday congratulations, for 
themselves rather than for him, to his home. Much shall we 
miss him from that home, which he made so pleasant and so 
profitable a place to visit. One of the few links which bind us 
to a generation that has disappeared is broken. One who was 
a pillar in this church when I took up its ministry, and whose 
friendship never failed me through forty-four years of close ac- 
quaintance, I can seek no more for counsel by which I might 
be guided, or aid which I might bear to others. But com- 
plaint would be imgrateful disregard of the favor granted us 
by the Almighty Providence in multiplying his years upon the 
earth, for our good as well as his ; and sorrow takes upon its 
lips the ascription of praise, when it thinks of the life which 
has " swallowed up " all that was mortal. He whom we held 
in equal honor and love has taught us how to live, and shown 
us the meaning of death. What remains for us, but so to copy 
his life on earth that death may be to us what it was to him, 
— an entrance into the experience of an endless life ? 



THE GOOD MAN'S LEGACY. 



Br REV. JOHN H. HEYWOOD. 



THE GOOD MAN'S LEGACY. 



Proverbs xiii. 22 : "A good man ieaveth an inheritance to his children's children." 

'\7'ES : a pi-ecious, a priceless inheritance. 
-*- He leaves a stainless reputation, an honored name, a 
name that men love to pronounce, around which sweetest 
associations cluster, and which becomes a new symbol and 
synonyme of virtue. 

He leaves the memory of his goodness to fill the hearts and 
homes that knew him with fragrance as of the flowers of para- 
dise. 

Nor is that the whole of his bequest. His goodness itself 
he leaves, — most precious heritage, and of all things con- 
nected with him or attained by him, the most real, posi- 
tive, and enduring, — not visible, indeed, to the outer eye, not 
tangible to material sense, but nevertheless possessing a reality 
that belongs not to gold -or silver, to houses or lands. Into it 
has entered what was noblest, truest, most real in his own 
being, — his earnestness of purpose, his faithfulness of en- 
deavor, his loyalty to right, his heroic self-denial, his thought- 
ful kindliness, his moral integrity tried and confirmed in life's 
countless conflicts. Formed of these substantial and vital 
elements, it is a living reality, a spiritual force, that takes its 
place among the measureless and deathless powers of the 
world. 



22 



This he leaves, — an inheritance indeed to his children and 
his children's children. No formal document, no will elabo- 
rately drawn and carefully authenticated, is essential for its 
transmission. Other property may require for its rightful de- 
scent the decisive voice of human law, — through which speaks 
the wisdom of the ages, — and the seal of some earthly Probate 
Court ; but this descends by divine right, and is approved in 
heaven. Like other possessions and treasures, it remains on 
earth when its possessor passes away ; but, paradoxically, by 
power peculiar to itself, though it remains behind him, yet it 
goes with him. It is his both to take and to leave ; and the 
more he leaves, the more he takes ; and the more he takes, the 
more he leaves. Nor is any studied enumeration, any minute 
specification, needed to secure its rightful distribution. It 
distributes itself by a law, free alike from the disturbing influ- 
ences of blind partiality and the unreasoning demands of blood- 
relationship, and goes, as worldly property sometimes does 
not, in largest measure where most needed, and where most 
cordially and gratefully received : and though a direct inheri- 
tance to children's children, with special power of blessing to 
those who are bound by nature's mystic ties as well as by 
spiritual resemblance, yet it is an inheritance to humanity ; for 
the inheritance left by the good man is left for all the children 
of God, — truly a divine inheritance, a bequest not of perish- 
able treasures, but of a power of life and of love, that makes 
not single hearts only, but the great heart of the world purer, 
stronger, richer, happier. " The memorial of virtue," saith the 
wisdom of Solomon in words of exceeding beauty, " is immoi'- 
tal, because it is known with God and with men. When it is 
present, men take example at it ; and when it is gone, they 
desire it. It weareth a crown and triumphetli for ever, having 
gotten the victory, striving for undefiled rewards." 

My mind has been led to meditation upon this topic — the 



23 



good man's legacy — by the death of a venerable man, a 
beloved and revered friend, whose friendship has been for 
thirty-three years one of the great blessings of my life. I 
refer to Mr. Robert Waterston, of Boston, for many years 
senior member of tlie firm of Waterston, Pray, & Co. ; a fii-m 
well known by some of our older Louisville merchants, and 
known by them, as by all acquainted with it, to be second to 
none in intelligence and integrity, in all the attributes that 
make and mark honorable mercantile character. 

Mr. Waterston was a native of Scotland, born in Edinburgh, 
Feb. 12, 1778. He first came to America in 1803, and spent 
two years. After a brief visit to Scotland, he returned in 
1806, to make our country his home. And it was his home, 
fondly loved, — no one born on our soil loving it more fer- 
vently, — for sixty-three years, to Aug. 30, 1869, when in his 
ninety-second year his earthly life ended, and he passed on to 
the higher sphere. 

There was nothing, that I am aware of, to distinguish his 
mercantile career from that of other upright, true-hearted, 
large-minded merchants. It was a signally successful career, 
though darkened at times by great perplexities, and having 
its critical seasons of intense anxiety, when heavy and unex- 
pected losses swept suddenly away the results of years of toil ; 
but through all the alternations of prosperity and adversity 
he was ever the well-poised, conscientious man, faithful alike 
in blight and bloom to the commands of duty. 

Thoroughly trained in mercantile affairs, having been placed 
in a store when twelve years of age, and bringing to his voca- 
tion a vigorous, comprehensive mind, and pursuing it with unfal- 
tering energy, he was the accomplished merchant ; accomplished, 
though utterly destitute of that marvellous financiering power, 
sometimes beheld and sometimes admired, by which men come 
out of failures rich, leaving their creditors poor, transmuting, 



24 

by wonderful alchemy, adversity into dross for others, into gold 
for themselves. That strange and intricate alchemy he never 
knew, and never could have learned. He knew only the simple 
moral chemistry, which, following always the formula of the 
Master, his truly golden rule, saves one's adversity from harm- 
ing others, and his prosperity from harming himself. 

Mr. Waterston diligently pursued his mercantile course till 
about twelve years ago, when he retired, his faculties all in full 
power ; transferring the business to younger men who had 
grown up under his eye, leaving the larger part of his capital 
with them, and seeking for its use only the regular legal inter- 
est. And these latter years he has passed in the quiet of his 
winning home, — a home in the very heart of the busy city, only 
a stone's throw from the Revere House, yet as peaceful as if 
in the still country, — surrounded with books that he loved, 
dispensing charities constantly, generously, unostentatiously ; 
welcoming friends with genial, hearty hospitality ; communing 
with God, and waiting serenely for the hour when the door 
should open for him to pass into the spiritual world. Beauti- 
ful old age, fitting consummation and crown of a true life, 
companioned as it should be — 

" With honor, love, obedience, troops of friends," 

how completely did it realize, as was said on the funeral day by 
one who fondly loved the good man, the picture drawn by Dr. 
Johnson ! — 



' But grant the virtues of a temperate prime, 
Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime ; 
An age that melts with unperceived decay, 
And glides in modest innocence away ; 
Whose peaceful day benevolence endears, 
Whose night congratulating conscience cheers, 
The general favorite as the general friend : 
Such age there is, and who shall wish its end 1 " 



i 

I 



25 

Such age, God be thanked, ends only as ends the shming of 
the morning-stai' ; — light giving way to more glorious light. 
" The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more 
and more unto the perfect day." 

To the venerable man, the pilgrim of fourscore and ten, 
as he sat in the cheerful parlor, which loving piety made a true 
oratory, visions were occasionally granted, very beautiful and 
very illustrative of his gladdening, triumphant, religious faith. 
One of them, narrated to me two years ago by his son, to 
whose congenial heart his heart opened its holy of holies, 
seems to me a perfect spiritual poem. Deeply meditating as 
was his wont, being in the spii-it on the Lord's day, — the 
spirit making indeed everyday a Lord's day to him, — our 
venerable friend, as he raised his eyes, saw flowers floating 
about in the air as in an ocean. After moving, hither and 
thither, gracefully around for a while, circling and re-circling, 
they came together, as in divine harmony, and formed the 
most exquisite bouquet, which, when formed, rose to heaven ; 
and in those united flowers, ascending skyward, the heavenly- 
minded man saw symbols of his fondly loved friends going in 
blissful companionship of soul to the heavenly home. 

Is there any thing in Burns sweeter than this? sweet as 
his " Mary in heaven," his "lingering star of lessening ray," 
and vdthout its sadness.. Is it not the fine essence of truest 
poetry, the heart's discernment of the divine correspondence 
that binds by inseverable ties earth and heaven, the very efflo- 
rescence of Christian faith in God and immortality, the realiza- 
tion of the picture presented by Cowper in lines of fadeless 
beauty ? — 

" When one that holds communion with the skies 
Has filled his urn where these pure waters rise, 
And once more mingles with us meaner things, 
'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings ; 
4 



26 

Immortal fragrance fills the circuit wide, 

Tliat tells us wlience bis treasures are supplied." 

To those of US who knew the spiritually minded man and 
loved him, — and to know was to love, — it was not strange 
or surprising that such visions of supernal loveliness should 
come to him. It seemed natural and fitting that they should 
come. The windows of his soul were all open to the true and 
heautiful. He loved nature intensely, was always receptive of 
her influences, having the keenly seeing eye and the reverently 
listening ear. One day, when I was visiting him, a year ago, 
he rose suddenly, caught me by the arm, and, leading me to 
the door, bade me look up. On the opposite side of the street 
stood a horse-chestnut tree, the largest and most symmetrical 
of the kind, and from topmost bough to lowest branch the 
green pyramid was decked with bloom. It was a spectacle of 
rare beauty. To him that tree seemed like the burning bush, 
all aflame with God ; and as I looked upon him, with his eye 
beaming with light and joy, he seemed no unworthy represen- 
tative of the prophet standing on holy ground. 

Two years ago our revered friend had a new and beautiful 
edition published of that incomparable manual of spii'itual 
religion, Scougal's " Life of God in the Soul of Man," which 
for nearly eighty years, we are told, had been his constant and 
most cherished companion and guide. His life-long love for that 
delightful little volume, as crystalline in style as it is heavenly 
in spirit, indicates the place which religion had in his heart, 
and the influence which it exerted over his life. Blessed with 
devout parents, — a father of strong convictions, who, though 
early called away, left an abiding impression upon the mind of 
his young child, a saintly mother, and a grandfather who made 
real Burns's ideal in his " Cotter's Saturday Night," — religion 
was always interesting to him as a subject for deep and earnest 
thought ; but when he reached the age of seventeen, the Intel- 



27 

lectual interest was transfigui'ed into fervent heart-piety. Then 
the great problems of hfe, duty, destiny, forced themselves 
upon him : then the yearning became intense, almost agoniz- 
ing, to know the secret of man's true relation to God and of 
the peace and power of genuine communion with him. Then 
he was wont to go to Arthur's Seat, and amid its solitary 
crags read the sacred volume, and seek converse with the 
Father. Nor did he go in vain, for rest came to his soul and 
strength for life's duties. 

It was aptly and beautifully said of our beloved friend, in 
an appreciative notice that appeared through the public press, 
the day following his removal from earth, that, though 
thoroughly American, the flavor of his native heather was 
always about him. This was pre-eminently true of him in his 
relation to religion. He had the love of religious discussion 
characteristic of the genuine Scotsman. Not that he loved 
controversy, least of all partisan conflicts for sectarian triumph, 
for his broad, catholic spirit beheld with joy and gratitude the 
moral image of Jesus whenever and wherever presented, under 
whatsoever creed or form, in whatsoever communion ; but the 
theme was to him, of all themes, the most ceaselessly interest- 
ing, and his thoughts upon it were clear and positive, and he 
desired that others should share in the peace and joy which 
he found therein. 

To no Scotch Calvinist was the doctrine of the divine sover- 
eignty dearer than to him, but to his eye that sovereignty was 
transfigured into the resistless sway of all-embracing love. 
The stanchest Covenanter believed not more firmly than he 
in the divine decrees ; but to him they were the decrees of 
infinite holiness, guided by infinite wisdom and inspired by 
infinite goodness, — in a word, the decrees of the Father bent 
on the final happiness of all his children. 

His theology was clear, and though clear, not shallow, but. 



28 

like the waters of Lake Huron, deep as clear. That theology 
was not vague, but on the contrary very definite : God, the 
Father of all and always, whose holy spirit is for ever seeking 
to enter and bless the hearts of his children ; Jesus, the 
redeemer and mediator, — redeemer not from divine vengeance, 
but from sin, negligence, and their sad sufferings; mediator, 
not the appeaser of divine wrath, but the appointed medium 
through whom Heaven's choicest blessings came, and are ever 
to come, to man ; man, a brother ; prayer, a duty and a privi- 
lege ; life, a sacred stewardship, to be illumined by faith, 
hallowed by obedience, made fragrant by beneficence ; and 
immortality, the real life, graciously ordained by the Lord 
of life, and revealed in its nearness and strong, attractive 
power by his dear Son. 

This was his theology, attained through the workings of an 
active, vigorous mind, and through the prayers and fidelities 
of a loving, consecrated heart, and a soul always open to God. 
It was a definite system of liberal Christian theology, which 
began to shape itself to the earnest mind of the young man 
ere he left Scotland, but which received its full development in 
America's genial air. To no one of the great congregation 
that from week to week gathered in the Federal-street Church 
was the vivid presentation of the cheering faith by Dr. Chan- 
ning, and his able and devoted colleague and successor, more 
grateful and helpful than to our revered friend, and by no one 
was its power to minister to fervent piety and Christian living 
more vividly illustrated. The daily beauty of his life was no 
less a constant attestation of vital spiritual power than it was 
a ceaseless benediction. 

Brighter and brighter grew that life, until in the Father's 
own time, the door of the heavenly mansion opened, and the 
good man passed in, leaving an inestimable inheritance to his 
children's children. 



At the last service an interesting incident was mentioned by 
the Rev. Mr. Heywood. 

About a year since, he said, on a visit to this city, I called 
upon the beloved friend who has now, in the ripeness of age^ 
been taken from us. While we conversed together. Father 
Taylor, the well-known preacher to the seamen, came in. It 
was most impressive to witness the cordiality of that greeting. 
Father Taylor, himself like an Apostle, with glowing ardor 
seized our venerated friend by the hand, exclaiming : " I am 
as glad to see you as I should be to see Saint Paul ! " " Ah ! " 
replied Mr. Waterston, " we must go to Heaven if we would 
see Saint Paul." " Wherever," replied Father Taylor, with an 
emphasis I can never forget, " wherever the truly good man is, 
THERE IS Heaven ! " 



As another indication of the feeling extended towards him, 
we venture to quote the words of the Rev. Dr. Hedge, who, 
after expressions of sympathy and the high personal regard 
which he, in common with others, cherished for Mr. Waterston, 
writes: " To know whom was to find now proof of the dignity 
and worth of human nature." 



He who, with wide liberality and sympathetic appreciation, 
had honored the devout of every name, was himself in return 
even so honored. The place where he stood seemed holy and 



became as the gate of Heaven. 



TEIBUTE. 



By EEV. T. B. fox. 



i 



ROBERT WATERSTON. 



The following tribute, written by the Rev. T. B. Fox, appeared in the Boston 
Transcript of August 31st. 



O OME characters are so simple in their integrity, and exhibit 
such daily symmetry in their excellence, that their har- 
monious beauty and goodness prevent the use of more than a 
few sincerely eulogistic words to describe them, even when 
they have become a memory it is a delight to linger upon and 
speak of. Such was the character of this venerable citizen 
who died yesterday, at his residence in this city, in his ninety- 
second year, ending a life of elevated usefulness with the serene 
evening of a ripe and trustful old age. Born in Scotland, he 
was hearty and wholesome in his temperament, and always 
retained something of the best flavor of his native heather. 
Coming to this country as a young man, he identified himself 
with its progress and its free institutions, and was thoroughly 
American in his philanthropic and humane patriotism. There 
are many to remember him as the head, for a long time, of a 
leading importing and commission house, under the style of 
Waterston, Pray, & Co., and many to bear testimony to the 
warmth of his heart, the purity and uprightness of his afFec- 
tions and principles, and his thoughtful and earnest benevo- 
lence, which gave a certain consecration to his activity and 
energy as a merchant. His religious faith was clear and de- 
cided ; and he was far from being wanting in literary and 



34 



aesthetic taste and culture. With liim the man of business 
was not the whole man ; and elsewhere than in his counting- 
room his strong and winning traits made manifest his Christian 
worth. In his retirement, lightly touched by infirmities, he 
has not been idle ; but, mellowed and quiet, the close of his 
career was in unison with its season of quick enterprise and 
resolute diligence and energy. Kindly towards all, he was 
surrounded by troops of friends ; and in the home relations the 
familiarity of his genial intercourse never diminished the rev- 
erence due to his sterling virtues. Now that he has calmly 
fallen asleep, after working so long and so well at his allotted 
duties here, the reminiscences and the praises of him that 
come from the lips of all who knew him tell how good a man 
the community has parted with, and how unblemished was the 
example he has left for honor and imitation. 



BRIEF MEMOIE 



ROBERT W A T E R S T O N. 



BY ONE WHO KNEW HIM MANY YEAES. 



^.2h ^^/^^-.^^ 



ROBERT WATERSTON. 



rpHE subject of this notice was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, 
-*- on the 12th of February, 1778, and he was therefore nearly 
ninety-two years of age at his decease on the 30th of August, 
1869. Before he was two years old, he was placed with an aged 
and pious relative, his maternal grandfather, who resided in 
North Berwick, a small seaport town on the Frith of Forth, 
about twenty miles from Edinburgh, under whose lowly roof he 
lived for some years. His earliest recollection was of this place. 
He always looked back with peculiar pleasure and gratitude 
to this period of his life ; and for this reason some of the cir- 
cumstances which attended it will be more particularly referred 
to. The religious lessons which were here instilled into his 
youthful mind by his revei'ed relative * were never effaced from 
his memory. " Morning and evening," he records, " might the 
voice of praise in the simple melody of Old Hundred, St. 
David's, St. Paul's, Dundee, or Martyrs, be heard to rise from 
his dwelling, followed by the reading of a portion of Scripture, 

* His name was Robert Cassie. In an autobiographic sketch, written more than 
twenty years ago, at the request of his son, Mr. Waterston says: "My grandfather was 
a truly religious and pious man; and although a professed disciple of the Calvinistic 
school, his piety was free from austerity. No ambition troubled his mind; he had no 
anxious cares beyond the daily supply of his wants, and these he was enabled to provide 
for, in a humble way, by the manufacture of linen. His treasures were in heaven, and 
the treasures of earth he did not covet." 



38 

and the humble and devout prayer of adoration, confession, 
and thanksgiving. Never was this duty neglected." This 
venerated man was ever afterwards associated in his thoughts 
with the picture of the godly patriarch in " The Cotter's Satur- 
day Night:"— 

The clieerfii' supper done, wi' serious face, 

They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; 
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace. 

The big Ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride : 
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. 

His Ijart haffets wearin' thin an' bare ; 
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 

He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
And, " let us worship God ! " he says, with solemn air. 

The simple tastes and frugal habits, united with the kindly 
virtues, of those around him, were not without their influence 
in moulding his character and developing a sympathy with 
persons in humble life ; and 

" The short and simple annals of the poor " 

always had a charm for his benevolent heart. 

The natural scenery by which the cottage in which he lived 
was surrounded also made a lasting impression upon him. 
The German Ocean, with its restless waters, lay stretched out 
before him ; the " Bass Rock," " Craigieith," the " Law," the 
braes, the sands of the seashore, and, at a short distance, the 
ruins of the castle of "Tantallon," — one of the strongholds 
of the Douglass family, — were to the last the fondest objects 
of his recollection ; and the walls of the room in which he 
usually sat during his declining years were covered with pic- 
tures representing many of these objects of his early love.* 



* On a business tour to England and Scotland many years afterwards, in 1S25, he 
visited North Berwick where some of his relatives still live; and, in a letter to his wife, 
written from this place, he says: " From Edinburgh we came on to this place, rendered 
dear to me from having passed here the first period of my youthful days. Memory 
recalls witli what delight I used to trip it on foot from Edinburgh, and with what joyous 
feelings I would enter the dwelling to meet the embrace of my graudfather. But he is 



39 

And here it should not be forgotten, that his native city was 
equally dear to his affections ; and interesting memorials of 
" Auld Reekie " always hung round the rooms of his dwelling. 
At about the age of eight years he returned to the maternal 
home in Edinburgh. His father, whose name he bore, had 
died four years before. He was now sent to school to Mr. 
James Purves,* aAYorthy and intelligent man, — the author of 
" An Humble Attempt to investigate and defend the Scripture- 
doctrine concerning the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," 
<fec., — whose instruction he continued to receive for some 
years. When he was twelve years old he was placed in 
the shop of his step-father, Mr. Robert Ruthven, a wholesale 
and retail dry-goods merchant in Edinburgh. Here he re- 
mained until, on coming of age, he was admitted a partner 
in the business, under the style of " Ruthven & "Waterston." 
Their establishment was in the Old Town, on the corner of High 
Street and St. Mary's Wynd, just where the famous " Nether- 
bow Port," the eastern entrance to the city, stood. The shop, 
three years since, was still standing. While a partner here, 
Mr. Waterston had an opportunity to visit London and the 
manufacturing towns of England to make purchases for the 
firm. 



not here now ; this place which once knew him knows him no more : he is gathered to his 
fathers, and we must soon follow. Such is the wise decree of Heaven, and the dictate 
of Infinite Goodness. Yesterda}' I was occupied in rambling about the braes; and if I 
did not pick the (jowans, I trod upon them." 

* Mr. Purves performed the duties of a minister as well as those of a schoolmaster, — 
preaching on Sundays in his own house to a small body of worshippers who had dis- 
carded the popular doctrines of that day as they were held both in the Established 
Church and in the churches of the Dissenters. Among these worshippers were the 
parents of Mr. Waterston, who, on returning to his Edinburgh home, always accompa- 
nied his mother and his step-father thither. As the number of worshippers increased, a 
hall was procured for their public services. This small body of Christians, including 
probably other societies in other parts of Scotland who held similar views, had, as early 
as 1771, published their opinions to the world, in a small pamphlet, entitled "A Short 
Abstract of the Piinciples ancl Designs of the United Societies in Scotland," &c. 



40 

Having early imbibed a love of republican institutions,* Mr. 
Waterston resolved, at the age of twenty-five, " to breathe the 
free air of the States," — without, however, having formed any 
definite plans as to his future course. Accordingly, in 1803, he 
set sail for America, making the passage in fifty-one days from 
Greenock, and landing on the 25th of September at Boston, 
which he made his headquarters. " He is a sober, well-inclined, 
and active young man," are the words of a letter of introduction 
which he brought from an Edinburgh merchant to his corre- 
spondent in Boston ; " and his friends here wish him into g-ood 
company, in the best and original meaning of that word." He 
never desired any other. Some merchandise which he brought 
with him he sold ; but, making a few losses in bad debts, which 
he determined to repair before returning home, he was detained 
in the country beyond his allotted time. In the meanwhile, on 
the 5th of April, 1805, he formed a contingent copartnership 
with Mr. Isaac C. Pray, of South Berwick, in Maine, where 
he had some business transactions, and in the following 
autumn returned to Edinburgh. He soon announced to his 
connections there his intention of settling in the United States ; 
and, closing up his business affairs, in May, 1806, he bade adieu 



* The period of Mr. Wateiston's "apprenticeship" — from 1790 to 1800 — was 
marked by as great political commotions as the world has ever witnessed. The French 
Revolution, the death of Louis XVI. and his queen, the counter revolution, so soon fol- 
lowed by the appearance of Napoleon upon the stage, — all these startling events so 
rapidly following upon and succeeded by others, carried alternately hope and fear to the 
friends of liberty everywhere, and dismay to the old monarchies of Europe. The gov- 
ernment of Great Britain was alarmed, and many of the reformers who were contending 
for greater representation in parliament, and were criticising freely the acts of the 
administration, were arrested and tried for sedition; and a large number of them, though 
probably innocent of any actual crime, were convicted, and transported to Botany Bay. 
Some of these trials took place in Kdinburgh, in 1793 and 1794, and excited great 
interest among all classes. Mr. Waterston, still a youth, sympatliized deeply with the 
accused. He was present at one of the trials, and tlie scenes he witnessed much im- 
pressed him, and produced a strong feeling in his mind against the government. Later 
events did not tend to dissipate that feeling; and this must be regarded as one of the 
moving causes which brought him to this country. 



41 

to his native country, and re-embarked for America.* He soon 
availed himself of the privilege, as he esteemed it, of becom- 
ing a citizen of the United States, and for over sixty years 
showed himself a loyal supporter of our free institutions.! 
He used pleasantly to say to persons whom he sometimes 
met, who were croaking about the country and the govern- 
ment: "You are not half so good a friend to your country 
as I am. I became a citizen here from choice : you are a 
citizen from necessity." 

The village of South Berwick offering too limited a field for 
the enterprise of the firm, a branch of their business was, after 
a few years, established in Kennebunk, a flourishing village, 
then a part of the township of "Old Wells." To this place 
Mr. Waterston removed; and here, in 1810, he married Miss 
Lord, a daughter of Mr. Tobias Lord, a well-known merchant 
of Kennebunk. Mrs. Waterston, a most affectionate and de- 
voted wife and mother, died in 1862. 



* He sailed from Greenock, and, after a tedious passage of forty-seven days, arrived 
at New York. The total eclipse of the sun took place while he was in New York. This 
was on the 16th of June. " It was a beautiful summer's day," he writes, " the skj' clear 
and perfectly tranquil; and from the balcony of Mr. Maxwell's house [the father of 
Mr. Hugh Maxwell], which was elevated sufficiently high to afford a view of the North 
River, I watched its progress from the first. It was truly a sublime scene, and a degree 
of awe came over the mind when sit mid-day it became totally dark. The busy streets 
were hushed, — every one looking upward, — a perfect silence reigned, and for a few 
minutes it was night at noon-day, with the stars shining brilliantly. The cocks in the 
neighborhood began to crow, and the few birds in sight seemed to fl}' in consternation 
for shelter. The air became cool, and a fresh breeze sprang up, causing the sail-boats in 
the river to careen. Gradually the light began to dawn, and, slowly as the darkness 
came on, slowly the light returned, until the sun resumed its mid-day splendor. 

t The next visit which Mr. Waterston paid to his native country was in the year 
1816, returning the following spring. His step-father, Robert Ruthven, his former part- 
ner in business, having died, his mother and his two sisters, the Misses Ruthven, 
returned with him to make their home here. His mother, Mrs. Helen Ruthven, was a 
woman of fine mental powers, and of superior culture, and in every way was a most 
lovely character. She was a fine type of the Scotch lady of that period. Her death, in 
183.3, at the age of eighty, was lamented by a large circle of friends. 

Three several times since has Mr. Waterston visited Scotland; namely, in 1824, 1852; 
and in 1856 when he was in his seventy-ninth year. 



42 

In 1814, Messrs. Waterston & Pray established themselves 
iu Boston ; and the firm, nnder that name, and under the style 
of Waterston, Pray, & Co., and subsequently under that of Water- 
ston, Deane, & Co., were for many years well known throughout 
the country, first as importers of dry goods, and afterwards as 
commission merchants for the sale of domestic goods. The 
senior partners were early engaged in fos.tering the growth of 
American manufactures, investing their capital largely in these 
enterprises. Mr. Pray was one of the ablest and most influential 
advocates of the " American System," as the tiue policy of 
government. Josej^h T. Buckingham, for many years the edi- 
tor of the " Boston Courier," in his " Personal Memoirs," says 
of Mr. Pray : " He had studied the nature and the results of 
the protective policy, and could demolish, in a brief conversa- 
tion, the strongest argument of any opponent of his doctrine." 
Mr. Waterston was an equally zealous advocate of this policy, 
and continued to be to the last. Mr. Pray died in 1846 ; 
Mr. Waterston continued in business till 1857, when, in his 
eightieth year, he retired from active life. 

Mr. Waterston had a true nobility of nature. As a man of 
business he was the soul of honor, and he had many of the 
best qualities which illustrated and adorned the character of a 
Boston merchant of the old school. He was of a cheerful dis- 
position, always looking on the bright side in the darkest hour. 
Energy and perseverance were qualities Avhich he possessed in an 
eminent degree. There were times, during his long business 
career, when serious reverses came, and when the stoutest 
heart might well be discouraged ; but his faith and trust never 
deserted him, and diligence and fidelity had their full reward. 
These trials served only to purify and strengthen him. 

Religious books and religious conversation, in his social and 
retired hours, united to a somewhat extensive private corre- 



43 

spondence witli persons of congenial minds, were his chief 
solace. One of his favorite books was " The Life of God in the 
Soul of Man," written by his countryman, Henry Scougal, 
nearly two hundred years ago. Such was his desire to place 
copies of this little manual within the easy reach of all, that he 
last year caused a new edition of it to be printed, many copies 
of whicli he distributed among his friends. He was always 
liberal, according to his means, in dispensing material aid to 
those in want, and in giving a helping hand to every needy 
cause which his judgment approved. 

Among the pleasant recollections of his later years were his 
frequent conversations on religious subjects with his pastor. 
Dr. Channing, between whom and himself he felt that there 
was a singularly happy agreement in some opinions not usually 
held by persons of the denomination of Christians to which 
they belonged. He had united with the religious society of 
Avhich Dr. Channing was the pastor, and with which he was 
associated to tlie last, some years before the present able and 
devoted minister of that church had become connected with it 
as the colleague of that distinguished divine. 

Tliough born under the influence of regal institutions, Mr. 
Waterston was thoroughly democratic in his views of life. 
He toolc pride, if pride it may be called, in an ancestry, whose 
chief claim to regard was that it represented a humble and a 
godly people. The fashion of this world, its pomp and its 
glory, he regarded not. Social distinctions and family preten- 
sions, based upon the factitious and the fleeting, or indeed 
upon any thing but true worth, were to him as vanities ; and he 
would often repeat the lines of his favorite " Robbie Burns," — 

" The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 
The man's the gowd for a' that." 

His tastes were simple and pure, and therefore inexpensive. 
Habits tlius formed while young were continued from 

6 



44 

principle through life. He early learned the secret of inde- 
pendence which is acquired by keeping the artificial wants 
few. He knew that persons are really rich or poor, not in 
view of what they have, but of what they want. Some with 
large means are always needy, while others with slender in- 
comes have enough and to spare. He was not indifferent to 
the comforts and even the elegancies with Avhich modern civ- 
ilization invests so much of our social life ; but all his expendi- 
tures, especially where they related to himself, were regulated 
by a wise economy, and with a regard to the higher uses to 
which wealth should ever be applied. His fondness for Art in 
many of its forms, and his love of good books, he did not hesi- 
tate to gratify, as they ministered to the best good of himself 
and others. 

He regarded the accumulation of great wealth in families 
as an evil, and felt that large possessions were the poorest 
legacy which a parent can leave to his children. He believed 
that young men should be educated to earn their own sub- 
sistence, and that all, except the infirm and the otherwise 
incompetent, should have that necessity laid upon them. That 
part of the prayer of Agur, "Give me neither poverty nor 
riches," he thought embodied the true philosophy of life. 

In his last testamentary provisions he demonstrated his 
belief that true " charity," which, the proverb says, " begins at 
home," is best discovered in enlarging the sphere of benefi- 
cence beyond the narrow circle of one's own family and 
kindred.* 

There are some passages in Mr. Waterston's early life, par- 
ticularly relating to the formation of his religious opinions, 
which are most interesting and instructive ; but this notice is 



* Although leaving the bulk of his estate to his immediate descendants, he did not 
forget others who were bound to liim by ties of kindred or friendship A large number 
of charitable societies in his adopted city were also made recipients of bis bounty. 



45 

too brief to embrace such details. With none of their tlieology, 
he had all the living faith of the old Covenanters in the Scripture 
record, of which few were more constant readers. He was, dur- 
ing his long life, an earnest advocate of peace, believing that 
the spirit of the Gospel was opposed to all war ; but, like most 
of those at the North who held similar views, when the late 
Rebellion broke out he pleaded for the most strenuous meas- 
ures to sustain the government, looking upon our large armies 
as the posse comitatus of the sheriff called out to put down a 
great riot. 

Mr. Waterston's genial and social nature found its fittest 
expression within the family circle. He had no canker at the 
heart, no corroding cares ; but every thing within, and there- 
fore every thing around him, was sunshine and peace. He was 
happy in his temperament, happy in the circumstances of his 
business and his family, happy in the green old age which suc- 
ceeded to his active life ; and at last, the euthanasia which 
kind Providence sometimes vouchsafes closed the scene.* 

" Of no distemper, of no blast he died, 
But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long, 
Even wondered at because he dropt no sooner. 
Fate seemed to wind him for fourscore years ; 
Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more : 
Till like a clock worn out with eating time. 
The wheels of weary life at last stood still." 



* Four children survive him; one son, — the Rev. Robert C. W.aterston, who married 
Anna Quincy, of Boston, — and three daughters, the eldest of whom, Helen, married Mr. 
Charles Deane, of Cambridge, Mass.; the second, Lucy, Mr. George Greig, of Beach- 
ville, Caii;ida; and the third, Marion, Mr. George C. Lord, of Newton, Mass. 



4 



i 



i 



EXTEACTS FEOM AN AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 



EXTRACTS FROM AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



" By it he heing dead yet speaheth." 
Heb. xi. 4. 

This personal narrative was commenced in the month of November, 1846, 
nearly a quarter of a century ago, and is addressed to his son. It was 
intended only for the immediate family, but there are passages which may 
now interest that wider circle of friends who honored and loved him, as so 
many rejoiced to do, while he was here. 

The sketch thus commences : — 

"\7'0U have so frequently espi^essed a wish that I would 
-*- furnish you with a few reminiscences of my early life 
and history, and the last time you spoke of it you expressed 
so strong a desire, that I can no longer resist complying 
with it. 

I was deprived of my father at the early age of four years. 
He departed this life at Edinburgh, March 27, 1782. My 
mother held his memory dear, and often told me of what I had 
lost in such a parent. That he was a man of more than ordi- 
nary piety and a devoted Christian, was the \iniversal testi- 
mony of all wlio knew him. He also had the merit of thinking 
for himself, and acting up to his convictions. 

Very young (I think I have heard my mother say that wlien 
about a year and a half old) I was carried to my grandfather's 
in North Berwick, a small seaport town, backed by an excel- 
lent farming district, some twenty-two miles to the eastward of 



50 

Edinburgh. Here I was placed under the charge of my grand- 
mother. Mj earliest remembrance, therefore, is of that vil- 
lage, — of the affectionate care of my grandmother, and of 
being the darling of my grandfather. No child could love a 
parent more than I did him. He was truly a pious and reli- 
gious man, and though of the strictest sect of the Calvinistic 
order, his piety was free from austerity. He was of a cheer- 
ful and happy disposition, the religion of the heart neutralizing 
the errors, as we considered them, of the head. 

Morning and evening might the voice of praise in the simple 
melody of the Old Hundred, St. David's, St. Paul's, Dundee, 
or Martyrs, be heard to rise from his dwelling, followed by 
the humble and devout prayer of adoration, confession, and 
thanksgiving. Never was this duty neglected. The " Cotter's 
Saturday Night" I can realize as a true picture of his family 
devotion. 

" His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, 

His lyait haffets wearin tliiu an' bare ; 
Tliose strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 

He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
And, '■Lei us worship God!' he says, with solemn air." 

Yes : I can indeed realize this as a truthful picture of my 
grandfather's morning and evening devotions. 

One other circumstance I must mention. I was early taught 
to repeat the Lord's Prayer, and enjoined every night before 
going to bed to say my prayer, and to say it from the heart, 
otherwise it was not prayer. I well recollect one evening my 
grandmother said to me, " Now, Robbie, mind your prayer and 
pray from the heart." I repeated my prayer as usual, but 
before rising from my knees I reflected, " Have I prayed from 
the heart ? " I thought not. I repeated my prayer again, but 
was still dissatisfied. I rose from my knees, however, and 



51 

-went to bed, but aftei- lying down I could not rest easy. Tlie 
question came up in my mind, "What is meant by praying 
from the heart?" I again repeated the prayer, but with no 
better success, and I could not compose myself to sleep. At 
last I said, " Lord, teach me to pray from the heart." I have 
ever considered this as ray first prayer. 

I was early sent to the district, or parish, school, — an insti- 
tution which does honor to Scotland, somewhat upon the prin- 
ciple of our free schools in Boston. From thence is derived the 
superior intelligence of the lower classes in Scotland, as com- 
pared with England ; all having the advantage of gaining a 
good common education, such as is acquired in our public 
schools, the Latin language included. I must have been very 
young when sent to school, for I remember learning the alpha- 
bet which was pasted on a board, — a neat pine-board, with a 
little handle to it, having all the letters, large and small, printed 
upon it. I trudged to school with this little board under my 
arm. At what age I left my grandfather's I do not know, but 
I think I must have been seven or eight years of age ; for the 
utmost of my acquirements at that time was reading and writ- 
ing and a little advanced arithmetic. I also had commenced 
the rudiments of the Latin. Never shall I forget the happy 
days which I enjoyed under my grandfather's roof. His house 
looked towards the sea, from which it was but a short distance ; 
divided only by a pasture enclosed by a stone wall, and the 
hraes, so called, being a common on which the cows, belonging 
to the inhabitants, had free range, — then a fine, hard, smooth 
sand beach, which was the playground of the boys. Often 
have I scampered over the beach, driving my hoop and joining 
in other boyish exercises and amusements. In the fine sum- 
mer evenings, I was at times tempted to remain longer at play 
than my grandfather's early hours of retiring permitted, twi- 
light continuing in the longest days till near ten o'clock. At 

7 



52 

the hoxir of nine, every evening, the town-piper paraded from 
one end of the town to the other in the main street, playing 
now the plaintive, and then the merry, tunes of Scotland, on 
the Highland bagpipe. This was tlic signal for my return 
to the house, — often with reluctance did I then leave my 
companions and our out-of-door sports. 

The sea, to me, has always been a noble spectacle, ever 
changing and full of interest. Here it opens to the German 
ocean, and in storms, particularly from the north-east, it pre- 
sents an awfully grand scene. Often have I beheld it with 
wonder and awe. In fine weather it is hei-e, as it is every- 
where, sublime and beautiful. Young as I was I could not 
but be deeply impressed. Pleasurable emotions which I could 
not define frequently filled my mind. I loved to wander upon 
the beach, to scramble over the rocks, and there I would sit 
me down looking towards the sea, watching the progress of the 
passing vessels and fishing-boats. 

The shores of Fife, with its villages, at the distance of about 
sixteen miles, could in clear weather be easily descried. A 
small island called " Craigleith," about three miles from the 
shore, on which a few sheep fed, was directly opposite my 
grandfather's home, which to me was an interesting object. 
Vessels were constantly passing and repassing on the shore- 
side of this island, which is about three-quarters of a mile 
long. The harbor was also in sight, which accommodated the 
sloops employed in transporting grain to various ports on the 
coast. Sometimes a ship arrived from the Baltic with timber, 
anchoring on the outside of the harbor and floating her timber 
ashore. A number of boats were continually in motion ; so 
that, although the town was small and with but little business, 
still it was active and lively compared to a mere farming dis- 
trict. The air was pure, healthy, and invigorating, and in the 
summer season a few visitors were accustomed to frequent the 
place for bathing and recreation. 



53 

Thus having presented you with a little picture of the town 
in which I was brought up in my earliest years, I must now 
carry you with me to Edinburgh, to which city I returned 
when I was about eight years of age. Here I was sent to 
school; and, under the instruction of James Parves, continued 
my studies. 

I have related that my father and a few others had sepa- 
rated from those who held the popular creed, and met by 
themselves, for worship on the Sabbath, in a private room. 
This meeting was held for several years in the house of Mr. 
Purves, by whom the services were conducted. Here I con- 
stantly attended with my mother. Owing to the numbers of 
the society augmenting, Mr. Purves's house was found too small 
for their accommodation, and they rented a hall in a more cen- 
tral part of the city, — this I think was in 1791, — Mr. Purves 
continuing to discharge the duty of pastor. He was a man of 
more than ordinary powers of mind, and a keen searcher after 
truth. He had not, as I have understood, the benefit of a col- 
legiate education, but by dint of application he had acquired a 
knowledge of both the Hebrew and Greek languages, considered 
in those days almost indispensable to a minister. I know that 
he was very much attached to the Hebrew, and expressed a 
great desire that I should learn it, and he would be my in- 
structor. He published a Hebrew grammar to facilitate the 
study of it. He was the author of several books and pam- 
phlets. Among his published works the " Humble Attempt " 
is one of the best. I once asked Dr. Channing if he had seen 
it. " Yes," he replied, " I have a copy, and think very highly 
of it;" and he was exceedingly interested to learn what I 
knew of him, and expressed great satisfaction that I had been 
under his ministry. He told me also that the late Timothy 
Pickering had a copy of the book which he greatly prized. 

This little company of worshippers, so strong were their 



54 

convictions of trutli and duty, publislied theii' principles to the 
world in a small pamphlet printed in 1771. Tliey preface this 
declaration of their principles tlms : — 

" To prevent mistakes concerning our principles and designs, 
and to rectify what mistakes any may have conceived of us, 
we have in the following pages given a short abstract of our 
principles in a few propositions. 

" Some perhaps may have expected that we should have tes- 
tified formally and explicitly against the particular evils and 
defections of the present times; but these evils and defections 
being so various and numerous, it would rather require a large 
volume than a small pamphlet to contain such a work. We 
therefore intend at present only to exhibit to the world the 
principles upon which we intend to act, whereby all such as 
truly love the glory of God and the advancement of Christ's 
kingdom, the vindication of his mediatory prerogatives, and 
the reformation of the prevailing evils of the present times, 
may have no cause to stand at a distance from us ; and also 
whereby those who oppose the mediatory system, so clearly 
revealed in the word of God, may be still the more inex- 
cusable. 

" Intending, in agreeableness to the following propositions, as 
they are proved from the word of God, to prosecute the prin- 
ciples there laid down, as the Lord shall assist and direct, in 
maintaining a testimony for all the doctrines and ordinances 
revealed in his word, against all the doctrines and practices 
of men that are inconsistent with that only rule of faith and 
practice ; namely, the Scriptures of the Old and New Tes- 
tament." 

With regard to the Westminster Confession of Faith, and 
also the Geneva and the Scotch, they say that they are willing 
to follow them as far as they appear to contain the truth. 



55 

They consider them as having been excellent instruments in 
promoting the work of reformation, but tliat the path of the 
just is as the shining light, tliat shineth more and more unto 
the perfect day. 

The word of God is the pillar and ground of the truth. 
Therein is revealed all the articles of faith to be believed, and 
duties to be practised. Again they say, " There is no unerring- 
rule but the word of God ; therefore the Scripture is the best 
interpreter of itself." " All synods and councils," they add, 
" since the apostles' times, whether general or particular, may 
err, and many have erred ; — therefore their doctrines ought 
to be tried by the unerring rule of the word." They go on 
to show what to them appears the errors of these confessions 
respecting the being and perfections of God, and of his moral 
government. The doctritie of election and reprobation, as 
therein held, they repudiate as inconsistent with the universal 
love of God, and that salvation and redemption of man offered 
to all in the gospel of Christ. 

The following is the declaration of their faith in the Father, 
the Son. and the Holy Spirit: — 

" 1st, There is one God the Father, of whom are all things; 
who is therefore the fountain of all being, perfection, and 
blessedness. 

" 2d, God the Father, himself incomprehensible and invisi- 
ble, is manifested and revealed by his only begotten Son. 

" 3d, There is one Lord by whom are all things : therefore 
all manifestations of the divine perfections are by him. 

'* 4th, There is one spirit proceeding from the Father and 
the Son. 

" Thus,''^ they say, " we believe in the Father and the Son 
and the Holy Spirit. We accept the Lord Jesus Christ for our 
Saviour, in all his offices as revealed to iis in the Scriptures. 

" We acquiesce in the method of salvation by Jesus Christ, 
according to the revelation of his word. 



56 

" We reject every thing in doctrine and in practice that is 
inconsistent with what the Scriptures do teach." 

Such was the faith wliich they maintain is " pure, scrip- 
tural, and elevating, when received and- embraced in the love 
thereof." 

I have said that I attended the social meetings of this society 
and derived much benefit from them. I had thus an oppor- 
tunity of listening to the conversation of my elders, and of 
mingling in their devotional exercises. Indeed, the company 
of my elders I preferred. From them I could always learn 
something. 

Still, though I felt interested in religion and its doctrines, it 
was, comparatively, as a mental exercise. The religion of the 
heart and life had not yet taken deep hold of my affections. 
Theology was my favorite study, and books of controversy 
interested me more than devotional. I studied the Bible to 
know the truth, rather than to feel its influences upon my 
heart. Not that I was wholly insensible, but something more 
was wanting to which I had not yet attained. This, I am per- 
suaded, did not arise from any defect in the influences under 
which I was placed. Nay, these rather tended to prepare the 
way, and might have been the very means, by the blessing of 
God, of developing my spiritual faculties. 

Here I am about to relate what I have ever considered the 
brightest spot of my earthly existence ; but how shall I ex- 
press it ? how shall I lay open, even to you, that of which the 
remembrance has ever been sacredly cherished in the secret 
recesses of my soul ? I think I must have been about seven- 
teen years of age when my mind became most deeply interested 
in religion as a personal concern. I felt my own sinfulness and 
insufficiency in a new light ; I became deeply alarmed ; my 
soul was sad and much dismayed. Nothing external moved 



57 

me to this ; no excitement from without. All was calm. But 
I could find no rest. I contemplated what was required of 
me, and how greatly I had been deficient. My outward con- 
duct had always been correct. It was the inward state of my 
mind that distressed me. I prayed, but still I could find 
no satisfying relief My feelings I strictly kept to myself. I 
thought that they were of too solemn and sacred a nature to 
speak about. I even wondered if anybody had ever felt as I 
did, with the doubts and fears that then l:eld possession of my 
mind. I could think of nothing else than what I must do to 
be saved. I felt that something was wanting, — a state of mind 
to which I had not yet reached. The world I looked upon with 
different eyes from what I formerly did. I saw it lying in 
wickedness and carelessness ; all appeared to me cold and 
dead. Even those whom I believed to be religious, I thought 
could have no such feelings as mine, otherwise they would 
express them, and not live so much like the world's people. 
This state of mind continued for some time. At last I ob- 
tained relief ; a light broke forth ; joy and peace succeeded, 
beyond expression delightful, which to be known must be felt. 
When the mind first becomes deeply impressed with the 
supreme importance of religion, there is something so over- 
powering in its inward workings that the truth of that pas- 
sage in the Ancient Record is brought forcibly home to its 
experience, " the heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a 
stranger doth not intermeddle with its joys." Such views 
may seem visionary to those who have not passed through 
similar emotions. I liave always felt a peculiar delicacy in 
speaking of my own spiritual experience. It is as if I were 
opening the door and leading you into a sanctuary which ought 
to be consecrated to God and to my soul. Still I know not 
that this feeling is the right one. The Psalmist appears to be 
of a contrary opinion when he says, " Come, and hear, all ye that 
fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul.'' 



58 

I know from happy experience that the Lord indeed is 
gracious ; that the paths in which he would have iis to walk 
impart, while walking in them, even here, a joy and peace 
which nothing else can bestow. All my experience has strength- 
ened the conviction in my inmost soul that there is no peace 
to be found for the immortal mind, no true happiness but in 
religion ; and that the only true way in which its enjoyments 
can be fully possessed is to give the mind wholly and with- 
out reserve to its attainment as the pei-manent object and end 
of life ; holding every thing else in subordination to this 
one thing. Thus this new and divine life, hid with Christ in 
God, nourished in the soul, will be continually springing up 
into eternal life, causing every Christian grace and virtue to 
flourish to the utter extinction of every seed and root of bitter- 
ness. 

The state of mind which I have described continued with 
varied alternations of sunshine and clouds. These clouds 
warned me that I had much to combat with, that the victory 
was not yet wholly won. Still the happiness and peace which 
I enjoyed predominated. To none, however, did I make known 
my feelings. Not even to my nearest religious friends did I 
open my state of mind. I thought that tiiey would not be 
likely to appreciate my feelings; that they miglit consider it 
enthusiasm, and discoiu'age me ; but I felt it to be a reality, 
more real than any thing I had hitherto experienced. My 
delight was to be alone, to pray, to meditate, retired from all 
human observation. I would have shrunk to have been dis- 
covered. Such was the state of my feelings. Between God 
and my own soul was the door of my young heart opened. 
Often iu tlie mornings of summer would I walk to Arthur's 
Seat, climb the hill, and high up among the craggy rocks, 
would I select a place most likely to conceal me from the ob- 
servation of any who might be rambling that way, and tliere 



59 

would I pour out my heart in fervent prayer, or read portions 
of my pocket Bible, or from some favorite devotional book 
which I had brought with me. Delightful were tliose sea- 
sons. There was something inspiring in the scene before 
me, — the open sky above, and the extensive prospect which 
spread before my view. " These are thy works, Parent of good." 
Dear to me is the remembrance of that hill on that account. 
With it will ever be associated my youtliful aspirations to Him 
" who fills all earth, all air, all sea," but who is felt most of all 
in the inmost recesses of the soul. 

During the time of my apprenticeship, as I may call it, 
while I was contented and happy in the sphere in which I was 
placed, it was a most eventful period in the world's history. 
The memorable revolution in France took place ; Louis XVI. 
was driven from his throne, tried and condemned to the guillo- 
tine ; his queen, shortly after, suffered in like manner. A 
republican form of government was established, and its admin- 
istration carried on under the name of the National Conven- 
tion. The continental powers took alarm; and, even prior to 
the death of Louis, war was declared against France by Aus- 
tria and Prussia. Thus was France assailed from without, 
while intestine troubles raged within, divisions took place in 
the convention, a faction headed by Robespierre gained the 
ascendency, and the reign of terror commenced. Death to all 
who opposed them was their motto, and with but little form of 
trial the best portion of those engaged in the Revolution were 
condemned to the guillotine ; blood flowed in streams from 
the scaffold, until a counter revolution brought these bloody- 
minded men to the same guillotine. A more peaceful season 
succeeded, induced, in part, by attending to their defence against 
foreign enemies ; but fresh troubles every now and then broke 
out, and kept the French people in a constant state of feverish 



60 

excitement. Their only bond of union was in repelling the 
allied powers and carrying their victories into the enemies' 
country. About this time, Bonaparte arose, that great military 
chieftain, who, from becoming general of the army, became 
chief consul, and finally Emperor of the French. England 
had, in the mean time, united with the continental powers and 
declared war. 

The history of these times is familiar to you. During these 
momentous events, the minds of the people in England and 
Scotland were kept in a constant state of agitation. The Revo- 
lution in France, arising from the long tyranny under which 
they had suffered, was hailed with joy by many throughout the 
united kingdom, fondly hoping it would establish the principles 
of law and liberty on tlie ruins of despotism and oppression ; 
and the attention of many were turned to reform the abuses of 
power under their own government. Meetings were held, and 
petitions drawn up and forwarded to Parliament, praying that 
those abuses which they pointed out might be reformed, that 
annual Parliaments might be established, and a more equal 
and extensive representation of the people in the House of 
Commons. These meetings became so extensive and general 
throughout the country, that the ruling powers took tlie alarm, 
and, with the example of France before them, determined to 
crush out every attempt of the kind. The time, they contended, 
was no fitting season for agitating reform ; and they accused 
the agitators as republicans at heart and enemies of the consti- 
tution. Meetings of the people were prohibited, and when any 
attempt was made, were dispersed by the civil authorities, and 
frequently in a very uncivil manner. Many of those actively 
engaged in promoting meetings for reform were tried for sedi- 
tion, and but few of those tried escaped from being found, or 
rather pronounced, guilty, rendering the accusation of packed 
juries not without foundation ; and a number of highly re- 



61 

spectablc men, witli the purest motives, were condemned and 
transported to Botany Bay, for exercising their rights in a 
peaceable manner. A number of these trials took place in 
Edinburgh ; and I have the most vivid recollection of them, 
having my sympathies called forth strongly in their favor, 
deeming it a stretch of injustice and tyranny. Among the 
number, whose names are familiar to me, were Muir, Palmer, 
Skirving, Margarot, and Gerrald, men of unblemished characters 
and of most respectable standing in society. These trials took 
place in 1792-93. Margarot and Gerrald were delegates sent 
by the London Society to attend the convention in Edinburgh, 
where they were arrested and tried. I was exceedingly de- 
sirous of attending the trial of Gerrald. A great crowd was at 
the door of the Parliament House where the trial took place. 
I pressed my way through, but the door-keeper was incorrigi- 
ble ; he said tlie court was perfectly crammed, and that none 
could have admittance. I remained, however, expecting that 
some one connected with the court might be admitted, and 
that then I might press in. I was right in my conjecture. 
One did come to whom tlie door-keeper gave admittance ; and 
no sooner was the door opened, than I dodged under the door- 
keeper's arms and made my way in. It was perfectly crammed, 
but I remained and listened to his plea with great interest. 
But it was well known that no plea of his could have any effi- 
cacy, — there was a determination to condemn. Tlie trial of 
Muir I have in print, but the only notice of these trials which 
I have seen in this country is in a pamphlet called the 
" Stranger in Lowell," * under the head of the " Scottish B,e- 
formers," article 17th, in 1845, in which, for the first time, I 
learned that the Reformers of that day, condemned and pun- 
ished as felons then, are still held in grateful remembrance by 

* By John G. Whittier. Afterwards reprinted as "Literary Recreations." 



62 

their countrymen. After stating that none of the Edinburgh 
reformers, as the writer understood from his informant, lived 
to return to their native land, but perished one after another 
under the severe discipline of colonial servitude, he says, 
" Years have passed, and the generation which knew the per- 
secuted reformers has given place to another ; and now, half a 
century after, William Skirving, as he rose to receive his sen- 
tence, declared to his judges, "YoMmay condemn us as felons, 
but your sentence shall yet be reversed by the people." The 
names of these men are now once more familiar to British lips. 
The sentence has been reversed, and the prophecy of Skirving 
has become history. On the twenty-first of the eighth month, 
1853, the corner-stone of a monument to the memory of the 
Scottish martyrs, for which subscriptions had been received 
from such men as Lord Holland, the dukes of Bedford and 
Norfolk, and the earls of Essex and Leicester, was laid with 
imposing ceremonies, in the beautiful burial-place of Calton 
Hill, Edinburgh, by the veteran reformer and tribune of the 
people, Joseph Hume, M.P. After delivering an appropriate 
address, the aged radical closed the impressive scene by read- 
ing the soul-inspiring prayer of Joseph Gerrald. 

"At the banquet which afterwards took place, and which was 
presided over by John Dunlop, Esq., addresses were made by 
the president, and Dr. Ritchie, well known to American aboli- 
tionists for their zeal in the cause of the slave, and by Wil- 
liam Skirving, of Kirkaldy, son of the martyr. The complete 
Suffrage Society of Edinburgh, to the number of five hundred, 
walked in procession to Calton Hill, and in the open air pro- 
claimed unmolested the very principles for which the martyrs 
of the present century had suffered." The account of this 
tribute to the memory of departed worth cannot fail to awaken 
in generous hearts emotions of gratitxide towards Him who has 
thus signally vindicated his truth, showing that the triumph 
of the oppressor is but for a season, and that even in this 



63 

world a lie cannot live for ever. Well and truly did George 
Fox say in his last days, " The Truth is above all." 

For the time being, the strong arm of the law thus exer- 
cised put a stop to all united action of the people to obtain 
reform ; and afterwards, when the excesses into which the 
revolution of France had plunged that then unhappy and 
distracted country were witnessed, a quiet acquiescence, or 
rather submission, to the ills they knew, were submitted to, 
rather than run the -danger of incurring those which they knew 
not of, and the attention of the people was drawn off' to the 
struggle that was going on in the continent. 

On Bonaparte's assuming the imperial sway, all hope of good 
from the revolution of France was given up, and the reduction 
of his gigantic power became the desire of the great body of 
the people. This state of things continued until I left the 
country to visit America, where a government more in accord- 
ance with my principles had been successfully established. 
But prior to relating the circumstances which led to this move- 
ment, I must state what my principles and feelings were during 
these agitating times. Although I was too young to take an 
active part witli the reformers, " the friends of the people," 
as they styled themselves, still I was old enough to feel an 
interest in their cause ; and had I been older, it is not imlikely 
that, being of an ardent temperament, I might have been one 
of those actively engaged ; as it was, my youthful arguments 
were always on the reform side of the question. I never knew 
the time when I did not feel a detestation of war, and every 
form of despotic power. My friends and associates were all 
on the reform side : I i-ead their tracts and publications ; hence 
I early imbibed a love of free institutions. Slavery, also, was 
a subject which engaged much popular attention. Petitions to 
Parliament were drawn up for the emancipation of slaves in 



64 

the West Indies, and against the slave-trade ; and I remember 
that when quite young I put my name to one of the petitions, 
and of being not a little proud of it, as having done, as I 
thought, what I could. I even relinquished the use of sugar, 
because produced by the labor of slaves. 

In the year 1803 — the year in which I left Scotland — the 
country was in a very agitated state. Bonaparte was then in 
the zenith of his power, and threatened invasion. He had 
assembled a large body of troops near Boulogne, and was 
making great preparations, fitting out vessels of war, flotillas, 
&c., to transport them across tlie channel ; and by taking 
advantage of a dark night and fair wind, it was thought he 
would make the attempt. Tlie government became alarmed, 
while arming the country en masse was talked of, and all capa- 
ble of bearing arms expected to be called upon. To remain 
neutral, when the country was threatened with invasion, was 
looked upon with suspicion. This, with my views of war, was 
by no means an agreeable position ; for I could not have, 
under the circumstances of the case, been induced to shoulder 
the musket. My feelings towards the administration, who had 
so tyrannically persecuted the reformers, had no doubt some 
share in this determination. Volunteers came forward in 
great numbers. A regiment was formed called the Edin- 
burgh Gentlemen Volunteers, who equipped themselves at 
their own expense. Others who could not afford to do this 
were furnished by the government with arms and uniforms. 
Over four thousand volunteers, all citizens of Edinburgh, were 
at one time reviewed on Leith Links, — a large common near 
Leith, about a mile from the city. Tliey marched up Leith 
walk, and paraded tlu-ough some of the principal streets in the 
city, headed by several companies of volunteer cavalry. I was 
one of the many thousands of lookers-on, and a most imposing 
spectacle it was, with the respective bands of music, and 



65 

colors flying. So popular was this arming, that even ministers 
of the Established Church took up arms as an example to 
their flocks. One of the ministers of the Canongate Church 
passed our store every morning equipped with sash and with 
gun and bayonet, on his way to drill; while on Sunday he was 
to be seen in the pulpit with gown and band, a right reverend 
professed minister of the gospel ! So general was the turnout 
of the respectable inhabitants, that those who stood aloof and 
took no part were considered, or at least strongly suspected 
of being, enemies to the government. 

This state of things, and of public sentiment, did not accord 
with my feelings. I longed for peaceful times and a less war- 
like spirit. All this parade and preparation, however, died 
away. Bonaparte abandoned his design : his attention was 
called elsewhere witli more hope of success. Although the 
state of the country was not the moving cause of my visit to 
America, still this, united with other considerations, had an 
influence upon my mind in determining me. 

One other circumstance I well remember. By an ancient 
municipal regulation of the city, it was required even of na- 
tives of the city, prior to their enjoying the right of carrying 
on business freely, to become burgesses, otherwise they were 
subject to a tax at the discretion of the Lord Dean of Guild, 
and others with him, whose duty it is to attend to this depart- 
ment ; and the law requires that eacli burgess, ou his admis- 
sion, shall take an oath, not only of fealty to the government, 
but to the religion, as established by the land. By thus becom- 
ing a burgess there are other than business privileges enjoyed, 
and for which the sum of forty pounds is required. I received 
a summons to appear before the Lord Dean of Guild, at his 
court lield in one of the chambers of the Parliament House, to 
comply with this law. 1 obeyed the summons and appeared in 



66 

court, when my name was called by liis lordship who sat with 
two otliers on the Bench. He very politely addressed .me, 
saying that, as I had for some time done business in the city, 
he presumed that I was willing to comply with the requisitions 
of the law and become a burgess. I replied, that I had no 
objections to- pay the required sum, but that I had consci- 
entious scruples respecting the oath, which I understood was 
required, and that this to me was an insuperable objection. 
After this reply, he turned to one of his associates, and having 
had some conversation with him, he said that the court re- 
spected those scruples, and he believed there was a way 
whereby those who had them might still enjoy the privilege. 
1 said that I desired to enjoy the privileges of a burgess, if they 
could be obtained by paying the money without taking the 
oath. He then said I might retire for the present, and here 
the matter rested. Several merchants in the city who wei-e 
burgesses, to whose knowledge this circumstance had come, 
laughed at my scruples, declaring that it was merely an ancient 
form. But it appeared to me in a more serious light, and 
I felt indignant that such a law should exist, debarring native- 
born citizens from the enjoyment of rights which I believed 
they ought to be entitled to in every city without tax or 
question. 

Not long after this the purpose was formed of coming to 
America. It was understood that my tarry would be short, 
and that after satisfying my desire of seeing the country and 
visiting the principal cities, I would return and content myself 
at home. 

I embarked on board the brig " Belisarius," at Greenock, on 
the fifth day of August, 1803. On the 25th of September I 
arrived in Boston, after a long passage of fift3'^-onc days. 



67 

But here, perhaps, it will be interesting for yon to learn some- 
thing of my voyage. There were only two other passengers 
in the cabin besides myself, — one a young adventurer full of 
life and vivacity. There were a number of steerage passengers, 
and among them several families. 

We set sail early in the morning with pleasant weather, and 
a fair, moderate breeze. The scenery in going down the Clyde 
was very interesting. After passing Bute and the Cumbray Isles, 
we passed the Hills of Arran, whose high cliffs and lofty peaks 
are exceedingly grand and imposing. Towards evening we came 
between Rathlin Island and the North of Ireland, — the town 
of Ballycastle in sight. A lovely autumnal evening it was : the 
sky serene and beautiful ; vessels in every direction were, 
gently gliding over a smooth sea, all sails set. It was a lovely 
scene. I began to think that a sailor's life was a pleasant one ; 
and the commencement of our voyage being so auspicious, I 
anticipated that it would be pleasant to the end. It was not 
until a late hour that I retired to my berth, my mind filled with 
the exciting scenes of the day, but still more with the friends 
I had left, and the change which in so short a time had taken 
place in my situation and prospects. I felt for the first time 
as if I was alone in the world, and every thing uncertain before 
me. Full of such reflections, after committing myself to His 
care, who is ever present, I resigned myself to sleep. This I 
was not, however, long permitted to enjoy, for I was suddenly 
aroused by a noise on deck. I listened and heard the rain 
pouring overhead. Shortly after, the wind began to whistle 
and the vessel to heave. All hands wore called ; then followed 
the noise of ropes thrashing on deck, the yo-he-vo-ing of the 
sailors sounding mournfully aloft, dying away in the gale. The 
sea continued to rise ; and in the midst of this noise a crack 
was heard above the whole, followed by a crash. Then fol- 
lowed an increased bustle and yo-he-vo-ing. Shortly some one 

9 



68 

came down to the cabin to put the dead-lights in the cabin 
windows. I asked what the matter was, and was informed that 
the foretop-mast was carried away in a squall ; but that there 
was no danger, we had got nearly beyond the narrows, and 
the captain thought we should weather it. The steerage 
passengers, from whom we were only separated by a thin par- 
tition, were in an uproar, calling oiit as if they expected all 
was over with us. Every thing, not secured, was in motion, 
rattling from one side to the other with every heave of the ves- 
sel, and now and then a fearful crash of crockery. My situa- 
tion was any thing but enviable, with sickness to crown the 
whole, and cooped up in the darkness in what was called a 
state-room, and a very unhappy state I found it to be. Anx- 
iously did I watch for the morning light, which I thought would 
never come. So soon as it began to dawn, I tumbled out of 
my berth and staggered to the companion-way. Holding on as 
I went, I made my way to the deck ; but oh what an altered 
scene presented itself! The sea was raging. Instead of seeing 
vessels in all directions gliding gently along, one vessel only was 
in sight, and that tossing, like ourselves, upon the stormy billows 
with the loss of a mast. Instead of the cheerful and hopeful 
faces of the steerage passengers, in groups \ipon the deck, a 
few woe-begone countenances were to be seen, peering out of 
the steerage gangway. The scene was by no means inviting, 
and I soon went below. Thus it continued rough and squally 
weather, every thing looking dull and dismal, and I all the 
while hardly able to stir from my berth. This lasted about 
seven days. I was so distressed that 1 cared not to live. 
Oh, how bitterly did I repent having left home and all its endear- 
ments! But it was in vain. No wish of mine could trans- 
port me back to Edinburgh. My fitful dreams were of home, 
of the friends I had left, and of my favorite walks. But on 
waking from this stupor, — for sleep it could not be called, — 



69 

the reality was brought home to me. Tossed ou this wild ocean, 
miud and body became equally restless. However, from this 
I gradually recovered ; and after being a fortnight at sea I was 
as well as ever. I could now exercise myself by laying hold 
of tlie ropes, with the sailors climbing the shrouds. I never 
enjoyed my health better, and, upon the whole, not only became 
reconciled to tlie sea, but even enjoyed the alternations of 
weather which we constantly experienced. An interest was 
also felt in every living thing that we saw swimming on the 
waves or flying in the air, — now skimming round as if in per- 
fect enjoyment ; now dasliing into the sea after their prey ; now 
floating upon the bosom of the water, dancing upon the bil- 
lows, and again dipping their heads into the sea, and witli fresh 
food in their bills looking up as if in gratitude to heaven. We 
were becalmed on the Banks of Newfoundland for three days ; 
the weather clear and delightful. All this time the sea was 
perfectly smooth, with a gentle swell. Here we enjoyed a most 
interesting scene. Far as the eye could reach, the sea and air 
were full of life ; gulls, ducks, sea-birds in great variety, 
flying, swimming, sporting all around. An Audubon would 
have been in raptures. Several flying-fish lighted upon the 
deck ; grampuses were present in large numbers ; numerous 
whales were sporting in the deep, every now and then rising 
from the water, spouting and blowing, sending up the spray to 
a great height. The birds appeared to follow their track, and 
when they spouted would dash through the spray, no doubt 
finding something palatable. In fact, it appeared as if the 
birds of the air and the fishes of the sea had, with one consent, 
agreed to have a grand jubilee ! Many a time may the Atlantic 
be crossed, and the Banks of Newfoundland be sailed over, be- 
fore such another scene shall be witnessed ! 

Part of the time, during this calm, I would retire to the 
foretop with a book, and alternately read and enjoy the scenery 
from that lofty station. 



70 

On the evening of the third day, during which we were be- 
calmed, a breeze sprang up, and we pursued our course. 

On the Sundays, a sermon was read ; and for the most part 
it fell to me to be the reader : but the congregation, small as it 
was, were not very patient listeners. The captain, in particu- 
lar, before the sermon was one-third through, would always 
find some excuse for going on deck. Sometimes I was de- 
serted by all my congregation ; but, upon the whole, we got 
along very pleasantly. 

Tlie first land we made was Cape Ann. The wind being 
ahead, we beat up to Boston harbor. A pilot soon came on 
board ; but after getting inside the light-liouse, the wind was so 
directly ahead, that we anchored. A boat, however, went ashore, 
and brought on board some green corn, the first that I had 
ever seen. In the morning, the anchor was weighed ; and with 
a moderate breeze we glided up the harbor towards the town, 
every object, as we passed, being viewed with interest. The 
city, as seen from the harbor, was then, as now, very beautiful. 
But it was quite novel to me in its character, looking light and 
airy compared with the stone buildings to which I had been 
accustomed. There were more wooden buildings in sight from 
the harbor at that time than there are now. We came up to 
Long Wharf, where the vessel was soon hauled along-side the 
wharf, when, with elastic step and a peculiar sensation of 
pleasure, after so protracted a voyage, I stepped on shore. 

True, I had no one to greet my arrival ; no one to receive 
me with kindness. A stranger, far distant from home and 
friends, but still I had no gloomy foreboduigs. I was in fine 
health and buoyant spirits, full of hope and curiosity ; and 
therefore with sensations peculiarly pleasurable I stepped on 
shore. 



71 



After recounting various other events, — more than forty 
years after, lie writes : — 

" You will perceive from what apparently little incidents the 
most important changes in my life were brought about ; form- 
ing, as it were, a chain leading on imperceptibly to results 
which I neither did nor could anticipate. Often have I thought 
of that beautiful verse, — 

' In each event of life how clear 

Thy ruling hand I see, 
Each blessing to my soul more dear 
Because conferred by thee.' 

" So also that excellent hymn, by Addison, in which God's 
merciful protection is celebrated, breathing the spirit of an 
ardent devotion, better expresses the sentiments of my heart, 
than any words of my own : — 

' When all thy mercies, my God ! 

My rising soul surveys. 
Transported with the view, I'm lost 
In wonder, love, and praise.' " 



Mr. Waterston's first arrival in America was followed by 
an active business career, extending through half a century, 
crowned with prosperity and happiness. Vast changes have 
taken place in the world's history during this period, all of 
which he watched with deep interest. Every new discovery, 
every indication of progress, he hailed with heartfelt satis- 
faction. Amid these changes, he quietly and diligently pur- 
sued the even tenor of his way, his life marked throughout 
by the most absolute integrity. With manners ever consider- 
ate and courteous ; with a genial nature, thoughtful and affec- 
tionate ; with a benevolence as unfailing as it was judicious ; 
with a love of nature only equalled by his loyalty to truth, — he 



72 

cherished a spirit alv^ays cheerful and hopeful, Tvhich no cloud 
could darken and no calamity dismay. Thus faithful, consci- 
entious, and devout, surrounded by loving friends, his active 
and useful life ripened into a beautiful old age. Tranquil 
and contented, each succeeding day seemed more peaceful and 
blessed than those which preceded it; until at length, with the 
gentleness of a loving child, he passed tranquilly away, falling 
asleep with a smile, to awaken in that divine presence, the very 
thought of which through life had been the delight and aspi- 
ration of his soul. Even so did he joyfully go, without the 
shadow of an apprehension, trusting confidingly in the perfect 
love of God and the unspeakable bliss of eternity. 



" His youth was innocent ; liis riper age 

Marked by some act of goodness every day ; 
And watched by eyes that loved him, calm and sage, 

Faded his late declining years away : 
Cheerful he gave his being up, and went 
To share the holy rest tliat waits a life well spent." 

W. C. Bkyant. 



jn 






?r 



V' 



DISCOURSES 



IX MEMORY OF 



ROBERT WATER ST ON. 



SHitf} atJtiitional Koticrs. 






J 



t«.' y 


t 


iiHd 


.'t 


.C«v 


.c ^ 


■(S<'<< 


(.(. 


Ci-<.' 


-c 


C«< 


<iC 


tC<.: 


-<l' 


Cs<. 


-■\C 


CS< 


<c_ 


<rc<i 


- <.« 






_ c e 

~ cc « 

_ t c 

cr.cc 



XT <L <i c: < 















o<; c 



' <Z C'CC 
-«- C'CC. 

" c cc; 

,^ CCc 

CTCOr - 



d <r 

O c 

: c c: 
Id d. 

'-IC d 
-^ c <^ 

IC d 

"\c c. 
: c <: 

c c 

re c- 

c C 

. CCC 

CCC 

<3 C 



-^<^ «d~' ^- 



CCId 



«nc ,d «-<:<■ s^ 

- «CG Cft 






CI' ■ ' 

d < 









. <? c « 

cC 
• CC 

C C ' 
C C 

C_ d 



dd 

•<5_d "S-.«z;r. . 

d d ':.-' _ 

C <C_ •«: ^sc ^ 

CL <d- •^-d' c d 



&^ 



^■tC 



-.jd(t<z:.<^i'< 






^fc::^^< 






C' 


■ -"d. 


Cl< 


<- 


<c 




*c 


4f~ 




\;^ 


■cr 


<£ <(id 


■Cf 


' <^ '^'tZ 


.«? 


<S^((J^ 


^■f 


^''^CT 


tii 


«:'cr 


C:- 


«c«r 


<<. 


<Ld- 



.■ «t. ■'«•:_ dd- 

«,'««:. CL«r' « 

-e ^ «:, dd * 

. <c ■■ «L' dd: « 

•«rc - ««r. «Z:<Z * 

'c «: dd * 
^ «: dd 

«£ d£L dC 

^ ^ dd 2 

■<^ ^ «= cc ■ 

-eCc < «:. GC_ 
•"^^ c (gc -CC ■ 
<£L' C OC Cd ' 

<st t or cc 

<<3St C «1 CC < 

<£c c «; cc ^ 

<S?X < OC CC ^ 
OS! c « cc ^ 

•eev <^ ^ CC ^ 

-C6^ .< '«C cc <^. 

:c -^ '«: cc c^^ 

c.. ■' ■ <«: ec c^gC 

c- '-' ■ (Ot.cc c<ac. 

d " ^ f«:« <««^ 

c< ■ "■ ' ^ ''«^"- cc *. 

c^ •< '«a:. c< « 

<c. ■■"■< '«£:;c<r cd,- 

'; cac y 'flccc «sr-. 
-, C"< !• <ar_cc <®t, 

l:_ .,5»_ C <. ■ 

-<. t I « «-Cf ^^ 

I. < < ^tf^TcCof"^ 

L < < ■*• «:ccc<„,. . 
. ^ c «-arc' ««: 



«- •' € 



cc «I 



;^gE 



or <'c 5 



«■ *3^ 



» cc 



e^ 












c c 

^ < S •^<- ««:. 

.' c-^. ..••TT'C oc:' 
t <- <1 . < <~1 c 

i. ' <; ■ «cc, «a^ 

i<' CL ^-d d, cs 
'<s d. .<: Ci;<c<i 



c:- >■ c c? c _ 

c; ' c d <1 

d' t c c <^- 

; " < C CI c 

_ - C C c 

c •- - c^ c c. ■ 
T. .. . c c <: 
c t C cc 

^r ^<r, C C C 

t .<?< ' ceo 
; <-~ s-" c <r c 

c ct . c CC ^p5;.5 

c c t , c c <r <acr «- < 

c^r . c CC^^^Cf 

cc . <_ cc .gc:. CL< 
<-c c d CC <xi c:c 

c <'~- c CC cad cc 

cc C cc OCT cc < 
c c ■ C C C <3C dC < 

cc - c: c c oc: dc ■ 
cc c c cc oc: <ic 
cc c ccc ^c: <rc. 
cc c c (• t cd c: d 
c c ' c c c cxL cl c: 

cc c c c cc dcr 

C C . c C c . Cd S^S 

c;c c etc cc ^d 
V.c cc. cc '^■"- 



c c 

c c 

: cc 

cc 

-c"c^ 
" c c 

- C C, 

' c C 

C C • 



C<' C«; 

.C;iC«- 
_C C 
, CL < C«C 

rc Cd 
cc Cd 
' c Cd 
, c cc 

^■^ 

c cc 






d:d 






<d c c 

vd_ cc 

cd C<r 

"sd cc. 

<aC CC 



^^-.^^ ,^c^^ 



^ 


•an 


«n 




^^c~" 


^3CI 


^ET'^ 


<s^ 


^Hc'SCl 




aid: 


^^"^ ^ 




^^Z-' 


' €g|t^^ 


'^kH'i 


«jj^ 


^Elj-; 


: ^H3^ 


^-:; 


- .^BLJ! 




^d! 


'^^' 


■;- ^C 


«Eii; 


'■/- ^^ 


^B^ ' 


<sr4ir 


^ET '■■ 


^C 


<^^^ 


<§i^r' 



«2S C 

/s:2.c 



dd 



cc-<d dC ^K- 
<Cc<d dC ' 

ccc^ cc 4 

cc^cd cc ■' 
'CCM<Z CC ■ 

<C<3d dC ^E^J 



di ^<;-^<'^ 1^ 






cc 
-"cc 

*C c o 

"cc d:<: 

Iccd" 
_cc d:« 

" cc d7< 



<r( -mcrcc 



-fr-WViC <E? ^ 

"-' cCcc«S 
«.vt«dCC' 

.«'-«dccg5d: ^<^ 

•«' • «iCCc «i3d "^1&^ 

«i, «C'CflSic; "^S-^ 

«<;' «r, c^.ar- c<3d . 



